


My What A Guy

by gbbqween



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Belle/Gaston - Freeform, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gbbqween/pseuds/gbbqween





	My What A Guy

The door to the tavern burst open, silencing the revelrey with the loud bang of the doors and an icy blast of the storm outside.

"Help! Someone help me!" came a shout from the open door. "Why, it's Maurice," one of the villagers exclaimed."Someone get him a drink!" called another at the bar.

"Please, please I need your help he's got her locked in a dungeon" a disheved looking Maurice continued. "Who?" The bartender called back.  
"BELLE! We must go- nnnot a minute to lose" the old man's words slurred.  
A murmur went through the crowd. He looked terrible, as though he'd been through hell itself. It was time to take control of the situation. In his most soothing voice, the way he would speak to a frightened animal, Gaston intoned, "Woah, slow down Maurice." He spread out his hands and leaned down to the frail old man's level, "Who's got Belle locked in a dungeon?"

"A beast, a horrible monstorous beast!" The poor old man was so frenzied, this final proclamation came out in a near squeak. Decidedly unmanly, to Gaston's ear, and perhaps unfortunatley, decidedly hilarious to the majority of the tavern's patrons. A gale of uprorious laughter temporarily drowned out the howling winds outside.  
"Is it a big beast?" called a barfly, in a fit of mirth.  
"Huge!"  
"With *haha* with a long ugly snout?" asked another, cackling into his tankard.  
"HIDEOUSLY ugly!" Maurice's voice shook, almost drunkenly, Gaston thought.  
"With cruel fangs an-"  
"Yes! Yes," Muarice cut the third man off, "will you help me?"  
Gaston had the picture now. The man had obvoisly had to much to drink and had a nightmare.  
"Alright old man," he boomed, "we'll help you out." He lifted his hands in another supplicating gesture. Before he could express any gratitude, Maurice soon found himself in a large snowdrift just outside the tavern door. The men who'd been taking the piss out of the poor drunk took Gaston's words literally and helped him straight out.  
"Crazy old Maurice," one of the men chuckled as they returned to the bar, "he's always good for a laugh."

Crazy old Maurice. Gaston pondered this. Crazy old Maurice? Maybe the old man was insane, or a drunk. But, what if Belle was in some kind of danger? A sudden wave of protectiveness washed over Gaston. No one was going to hurt his future wife! But, he thought, what could the old man have been babbling about? Maybe, his desire for Belle sparking uncharacteristic originality in his creativity-sterile mind, a large dog had passed through the inventor's farm and frightend sweet, beautiful Belle. A wolf even! Further scenarios escaped him. He was new to this.  
"Le Fou, I'm afraid I've been," he grimaced, "thinking..."

"A dangerous pastime," came the reply.  
"I know." "I just thought." he stopped, unsure how to have a conversation like this. With Le Fou. "That crazy old man is Belle's father." Facts. This was easier. "I promised myself I'd be married to Belle and seeing that loony old man has given me an idea."  
"An idea."  
"A plan," he revised, forcefully. "Something may have actually happend up at their farm," he cleared his throat and contiued at a lower volume after glancing to be sure they weren't being overheard, "and if that... something... is dangeous..."  
"Beastly," Le Fou interjected with a snort.  
Gaston grabbed his lapels and forced his foolish friend to look him in the eyes, "then I am the man to stop it. I will help them and Belle will be so appreciative. So impressed by my bravery and strength and savoir faire." He stopped, the plan has sounded good in his head. It also sounded good coming out of his mouth, but so did everything Gaston said. He had always admired his own voice. So deep and commanding, but charming and, dare he say, seductive.  
"I've always thought so!" Le Fou chirped.  
It took Gaston a moment to process this response. Had he been musing aloud about his voice?  
"Brave, strong- all of it" he elaborted.  
Ah. Ah! Yes the plan! "Good," Gaston said with a small shake of his head. “Then we'll leave here and head stright after Crazy old Maurice."  
"Or, Papa- *snort* right, Gaston?"  
Gaston stared blankly.  
"Because... when you marry Belle, he'll be-"  
"My Father-In-Law, of course." he forced a chuckle. Could Le Fou let no opportunity to make one of his brain- straining jokes pass? Gaston rubbed his jaw wearily. Half of what his ridiculous friend said was impenatrable wordplay, the other half obscure refrences. He wondered, not for the first time, why he kept this fool around.  
"But first," cried Le Fou, "another round on me!"  
There it was. Gaston smiled, perhaps his plan could stand a small delay. It would still be a perfect plan in half an hour, perhaps even a few hours. Perfect plans were good like that. Perfect plans were, well, perfect. Gaston leaned back in his chair, awaiting Le Fou's return.


End file.
